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The Music Continues Part 7                      Ascent of Mount Sinai A Pilgrim's Account

27- 28 September , 1996  Cairo to St. Catherine, Egypt

[ NOTE: From 24 Sept - 11 Oct, 1996, I was with 40+ people on pilgrimage to Egypt and Israel with Father Santan Pinto, S.O.L.T. This is a part of the journal I began on the journey. Unfortunately it was too incredibly overwhelming by the time we got to Israel to continue writing things down. This much is offered to give those not blessed with such a journey a faint taste of it.]

We headed out across the desert in our bus, with police escort due to a constant threat of terrorism. Earlier in the year, 18 elderly women preparing to board a bus at their hotel near the Pyramids of Giza had been gunned down. I was only aware of the escorts after they were pointed out, and never felt an ounce of threat or danger. God sent me on this trip. It was all in His hands!

Once outside Cairo there were few marks of civilization. It was beautiful to see endless miles of desert and reminded me very much of growing up near Hanford, in the state of Washington. We stopped at the Suez Canal for photographs and a walk. How precious water becomes in the desert, more so than anywhere else on earth. You KNOW that it is life. Even when the day is not hot in the shade, only a short time in the sun dehydrates the body and thirst is constant.

Our next stop was a little oasis between the mountains that contained the well where Jethro's daughters fetched water. This is a place Moses has been! It is so hard to comprehend, to come this close to such an ancient father! It was extraordinary in its simplicity, very moving. Then some little Bedouin children came and wanted to pose for pictures for money. One woman pulled out a small wad of money and a young boy grabbed at it instantly! She had to struggle hard with him to get it back and we made haste to the bus and left. It is not good to have problems with the people. We all learned an important lesson, never expose more than you are willing to give up. But he was the only person we encountered who behaved this way. Ordinarily the Egyptians love to bargain and get all they can, but fair is fair. Our other experience was a little boy warning one of our group that her purse was open. I felt much safer around these people than I do in a city at home.

Late in the afternoon we drove into St. Catherine's, Egypt. Or I should say we drove into our little motel, there was nothing else to be seen other than desert and mountains. The buildings were all made out of big chunks of a reddish rock, crude and charming. The rooms were about 5 or 6 in a row as an old motel along an American highway. These were scattered around a central office building. In the middle of everything was a separate building that was the dining hall. There were palms outside and flowers, and it was a very picturesque spot.

We were not allowed to have mass at Saint Catherine's Monastery,  located at the foot of Mount Sinai. It is Greek Orthodox and they only share their greatest treasures (ancient manuscripts and icons) and allow masses with Greek Orthodox. So we celebrated mass in a "tent" on the grounds of our motel. This tent consisted of a circular rock wall, about 30 inches tall and about 20 feet in diameter. Inside the circle were four large palm trees. Supports extended from the walls to create a roof framework. The roofing material was the living branches of the palm trees! It was a beautiful and cool place, with a dirt floor. Seating was built into the outer rock wall, and tables were set up all around the perimeter. Simple ladderback chairs were used for seating on the inside of the tables.

It was a difficult place for Fr. Pinto the celebrate mass. First he found the water missing, so Virginia ran to get some. Then when he tried to light the candles, the breeze kept extinguishing them. So he proceeded minus the candles. Dusk was rapidly setting in because of the high mountains all around. There were lights in the tent, but as Father began reading the Psalm, the power went out!  Someone finally dug out a flashlight, but then the power came back on. No matter what the difficulties, it was a liturgy celebrated in the desert of Sinai and a powerful gift.

After mass we had a half hour before dinner at 7:30 p.m. The sun had set completely, and the very sharp, steep mountains directly behind the motel showed a full moon would soon crest. I slipped into the shadows and was able to privately observe the moon rise over the craggy rock. It rose so fast the movement was visible, and breathtaking. It was so unbelievably quiet and peaceful there. To think of all the saints who watched the moon rise around here was overwhelming. The world goes on. Famines, wars, joys, and sorrows, all continue to flow and the moon rises and sets all the same. Never changing, nor do these rugged mountains. How I would love to stay as a hermit in a cave here for a few months.

We had a memorable dinner in the dining hall, but I could not eat thanks to an "encounter" in Cairo. Fortunately the woman sitting next to me could speak the language and explain to the servers why I was not eating so they would not be offended. They were so incredibly solicitous I finally ate a bit of pita bread to make them feel better.

Everyone was very excited and the buzz in the dining hall was like an elementary school lunchroom. We were all to take a nap after dinner, then meet in the main lobby by 1:45 a.m. to board a bus that would take us to Mount Sinai.

When we went to bed I could not sleep at all! As the minutes and hours ticked by I wondered how in the world it would be possible to stay up ALL night. However, when it was time to go, grace managed to allow me to dress and feel somewhat "human"!  I offered up my lack of sleep for a fellow pilgrim, and was very happy to see this person doing very well! We loaded up on the bus and drove around a mountain to the monastery of St. Catherine's at the foot of Mount Sinai. With the full moon it was truly a spectacular night! We walked up past the monastery , past many Bedouins with their camels. But of course we didn't need a camel, we were hiking on our own! We were climbing up God's Holy Mountain.

I had dreamed and fantasized of this trek. Going up to Meet My God. Whatever might happen? This was a place where God had manifested Himself to the great prophets! Perhaps He would give me my own Mission up on the heights. Who could guess what wonders might occur.

We walked in silence up the road. It was a soft, powdery dust that cushioned our steps so there was barely a sound. The road turned into a path, and the path began to ascend. It was not a sharp ascent yet, but it was relentless. The Bedouin leading us walked very fast, and some of us began to lag behind. This was really a trial! As fantasy gave way to reality, Abba and I had a long conversation about humility and grace and He taught me a lot in this struggle. [ A short time later I was diagnosed with extreme hypothyroidism so it was truly a miracle to have made this climb at all!]

Eventually it seemed to me that I must be the only one of our group left behind....  There on a barren desert mountain thousands of miles from home. But then I came upon some of our group, and it was such comfort to be with them! For a time Patti's husband, Doug, was practically dragging some of us up the path. Then Virginia and Barb and I gave in and decided to get help. Bedouins were continually passing us with camels and were more than willing to take us up as far as the camels go, until the "steps" begin. "Good camelo! Ten 'dollah'," they would chant. I had only large US currency so Virginia gave money for both of us to get a camel.

The first thing one should do before climbing into a camel saddle is to assess it's size. Some horns are very far apart from front to back, and some are very close together. The closer together they are, the easier it is to ride without hanging on. But the closer they are together, the more likely they are to "hit" you wrong! And as the camel performed his rocky stretching of legs to stand up with me on his back, it was abundantly clear that these saddle horns were too close together for me! I was in pain but the Bedouin would not put the camel down. So here I was on Mount Sinai, going up to meet my God in the holiest of moments. And what was I doing? I the stillness of night, I was not hearing the Song of Heaven. I was shrieking at an unwilling Bedouin to "GET ME DOWN! PUT THIS CAMEL DOWN! IT DOESN'T FIT! IT IS HURTING ME!" All the time furiously gesturing to leave nothing to the imagination that I wanted the "camelo" to SIT DOWN!

BUT NO! Perhaps the Bedouin was afraid he would lose his "ten dollah". I continued to instruct him to make the camel lay down to no avail. Finally Virginia and Barb helped me figure out how to shift my weight to be completely forward-facing in the saddle. This brought immense relief and finally had a perfect fit. I could ride with no hands!

Hey, this was fun! Virginia had been suffering altitude sickness and was so nauseated but continued to laugh and laugh. Barb was just ahead of me and we had an incredible trip up Mount Sinai, a mixture of comedy and awe. I had such an agenda for this ascent, because of various things God has shown me, I was expecting Him to perhaps even come down in a cloud and we'd have a wonderful chat at the summit! Instead, this was my awkward entrance into the Holy Land, breaking the silence of a holy, moonlit night with shrieks of pain heard all the way down at the monastery!

Funny thing about camels. They move along slowly, and when they come to a rise, the Bedouin has to tug on the lead to get them to continue. They love to insult you by giving the severest of groans, as if elevating your body to the next rise takes more energy than they can possibly muster! They also like to walk along the outside edge of the path when there is an especially sheer drop-off. And then they sway a little, so an old sailor like me is leaning madly to the uphill side..."hiking out" to try to stay on the upper portion of the mountain.

Barb and I had another unique experience. A Bedouin bringing camels back down the path met us at a narrow spot. The saddles are very wide, and Barb and I each had a camel wreck! The saddle of the other camels ran into our legs and believe me, it really hurt. But at least we weren't knocked off or down the mountain. Then we started laughing again and somehow the pain disappeared.

We looked like the Three Wise Men travelling by moonlight, we decided.  

Eventually we came to the little "rest area" hugging the mountainside and the ride was over. There was a refreshment hut and a camel parking lot at a slight widening in the path. We weren't allowed to simply dismount on the path. No, we were led into the camel parking lot, and our camels knelt down snuggled up to other camels! We somehow managed to get off their backs without stepping on other camels, avoiding a bite or spit from a neighbor.

Now the Bedouins expected a tip. I had no money for them, only US $20 bills. So Barb gave my Bedouin an Egyptian pound note and hers a US dollar. This brought a near riot as the one with the pound note knew he got only 1/3 as much! I'm not even sure how we escaped from there but we finally got extricated from all the waving arms and took off up the path. In Egypt, "baksheesh" , a tip, is not an option.

The rest of the climb was literally torture. The last of the path consists of 750 rock "steps" as they are loosely termed, which are uneven rock and very steep. I could make ten or so before sitting down to rest. Only by thinking of Jesus carrying His cross up the Via Dolorosa was it possible to go on. The thought was continually in my mind that one day there will be far greater trial than this, and if I cannot do this, how will I learn to persevere later on? People were throwing up along the way, and members of our group were strewn along the path in various stages of exhaustion. It helped to stop and talk to them for a moment, then press on.

When the top was finally visible, so were many, many people who were making a lot of noise. It was not the reverent, prayerful experience I had dreamed about. So just short of the summit, I found an immense, rounded rock and sat down to pray. The sun was already coming up, although not revealed through the morning mist until I was seated. The huge red ball of fire lit up a barren, rocky paradise. I don't know how it could be barren and paradise, but it was. Maybe simply because it is God's Holy Mountain.

This is when He told me, gently and sweetly, that on this pilgrimage, "I will speak to you in whispers". So there was no concern about great signs and wonders. Letting go of my own plans and fears and fantasies finally brought complete peace. I sat on my rock looking out across this magnificent land and just loved Him in silence.  
 

Sunrise brought with it an unexpected sight. While the ascent had taken hours, for some reason in the dark this was not equated with height and distance. No wonder we were so tired. We were right next to heaven! It was beyond comprehension how far we had come, and being so tired it was beyond comprehension how we would get back down. But there was no alternative. So after adjusting my clothing and pack, the descent was begun. Pilgrims were streaming down now in a solid line. The steps seemed even steeper going down and I fell many times before arriving at the relatively smooth path. At least down requires a bit less energy than up. But not much. The camels looked so inviting, but I was not going to pay $20 to ride down, and knew there would be no change given.

The feel of this place is holy and awesome. Ancient stone walls and walkways that have seen so many faithful come and go may be walked by pilgrims today. And to see the Burning Bush is a gift greater than imagined. It is enormous, surrounded by a grate to help support it, and there are no leaves until it reaches a height of perhaps 8 feet or so. It appears to be a type of simple rose. The leaves are tiny, no longer than a half inch or so. But it is a large bush, being at least 10 feet in diameter. I touched my rosary to it, and said a prayer for Moses to help me to know God, to "hear" Him, and to "see" Him in my own life.  

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Copyright 1998
Elizabeth Ann Stevens, OCDS
elijahes@aol.com

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